


be your shelter, be your storm

by atlantisairlock



Category: Ocean's 8 (2018)
Genre: Babysitting, Children, Cute Kids, Domestic Fluff, F/F, Fluff and Humor, Future Fic, Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, Implied Sexual Content, Kid Fic, Light Angst, Marriage Proposal, References to Drugs, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-06-08 19:10:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15250089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atlantisairlock/pseuds/atlantisairlock
Summary: Everyone, including andespeciallyTammy's kids, think Debbie and Lou are married. They'renotmarried. Theythink.





	be your shelter, be your storm

**Author's Note:**

> for **thetwicenamed** , who asked for: debbie & lou trying to negotiate what the hell they are to tammy's kids would be a hilarious gay mess. i'd love to see it if you're ever interested.
> 
> background daphne x rose. they're the ones responsible for the 'implied sexual content' tag, not debbie x lou. 
> 
> title from 'be your everything' by boys like girls.

After the heist, everyone moves into headquarters, complete with whatever stragglers they chose from their pre-heist lives (really, just Nine Ball’s sister and Tammy’s kids, because the rest of them don’t exactly have very healthy personal lives). 

Tammy, busy finalising her divorce from her husband after she went home to find him in their bedroom with three women half her age and about a pound of cocaine in their possession, looks pleadingly around at all of them. “I need you to help me watch the kids.”

“Of course we will,” says Debbie. “Go do whatever you need to.” 

“What I _need_ is to murder my ex-husband,” says Tammy, grimly.

“Other than that, if you don’t mind,” says Lou. 

Tammy makes a disgruntled noise and packs up to head to her lawyer’s. 

 

 

Debbie finds herself on babysitting duty a lot, owing to the fact that she’s known Tammy the longest and her children at least recognise her from the old photographs Tammy has at home. She takes them to kindergarten and picks them up and on weekends they go to the playground together. She reads them bedtime stories when Tammy’s held up doing all the legal settlement and makes sure their bags are packed for the next day.

The other girls cycle in as and when they want to or when Debbie needs an extra hand. Amita lets them help her when she cooks dinner, and Daphne gets them to act in place of her co-stars when she’s reading off her scripts. Rose starts teaching them the basics of sewing and Nine Ball starts them on coding. Constance puts Zoe on a skateboard for a good half hour before Debbie steps in. “Stop that. She’s too young to be doing flips on that thing.”

Constance pouts. “She’s got a helmet and everything. Look, I went out to get those cute little shin guards.” 

“Those can stay in storage until she goes to elementary school,” Debbie says firmly, but snaps a photo of Zoe in her adorable getup for Tammy to coo at when everything settles down. 

 

 

Of all of them, Lou spends the most time pulling duties with Debbie. She’s got a soft spot for kids, always has. She didn’t have the best childhood and Debbie knows she’s protective of the little ones, never wants any child to have to go through what she did.

She’s the one who spoils them where Debbie tries to be a little stricter and follow Tammy’s firm but fair parenting style. She’ll take them on supermarket runs and they’ll both come back with hands and mouths sticky from popsicles. Debbie’ll fold her arms and glare at Lou, who won’t even have the grace to look the slightest bit sheepish. “It was just one popsicle. And it was one of those healthy fruit ones.” 

This is probably true, but Debbie takes the next grocery run anyway.

 

 

“Aunt Debbie?” Caleb says, when they’re perusing the fresh fruit section of the supermarket. Debbie’s busy frowning over the prices of lemons and wondering why Daphne needs so many, but turns back to where Caleb is sitting in the trolley with his sister. “Yes, Caleb?”

“Are you and Aunt Lou married?”

Debbie drops all the lemons she’s holding, which scatter across the tile. A passing staff member gives her a look of resigned disdain. Debbie quickly bends to gather and bag them, passing them to Zoe to arrange neatly in the cart. “Sorry, honey, what was that?”

“I said, are you and Aunt Lou married?” Caleb repeats, louder this time. Debbie glances wildly around her hoping nobody is in earshot. “Well - uh - no, we’re not.” 

“Oh,” says Caleb, looking thoughtful. “Like how Mommy and Daddy aren’t married?”

“No!” Debbie picks up the pace, heading for the checkout. “Your Mommy and Daddy aren’t married _anymore,_ sweetie. But Lou and I - ah - have never been married. We’re just - we’re not married.” 

Caleb pauses and then opens his mouth again and it’s a torturous moment for Debbie, who isn’t sure what’s going to come out next but is absolutely certain she won’t know how to answer it. Thankfully, he’s summarily and blessedly distracted by the candy bars at the counter and happily starts clamouring for one, and all thoughts about her and Lou being married disappear.

 

 

Lou gives her a questioning but deeply smug smirk when she opens the door for them when they get home and sees Caleb and Zoe occupied with their Cadbury bars. 

Debbie gives her the stink eye.

 

 

For three days there isn’t a peep from Caleb following up on what he said in the grocery store, and Debbie breathes a sigh of relief.

It is short-lived, because this time it’s Zoe who pipes up when they’re on the way to kindergarten. “Aunt Debbie, why don’t you and Aunt Lou wear wedding rings?”

Debbie does not crash the car, because she’s not eighteen years old and can keep her stunned shock under control. Instead she grips the steering wheel a little tighter and glances up in the rearview mirror. “Why would we wear wedding rings, Zoe?”

“Because you’re married,” says Zoe, with her ‘duh’ voice, looking at Debbie like she’s particularly stupid. “Mommy wore a wedding ring when she and Daddy were married.”

“Zoe, honey,” Debbie starts, feeling a slight headache come on. “Did your brother tell you that Aunt Lou and I are married? Because we’re not.”

Zoe gives her an even dirtier look. “I figured it out myself,” she snips, folding her arms and glaring in a manner that’s honestly more adorable than threatening. “I don’t need _Caleb_ telling me stuff! Caleb is a dumb-dumb.”

“Hey, don’t call your brother names,” says Debbie.

“Well, he is a dumb-dumb,” says Zoe, mutinously. 

“That’s not nice, Zoe.” 

“Aunt Nine says girls aren’t put on God’s good earth to be _nice,”_ is the snappy retort.

Debbie sighs and makes a note to talk to Nine Ball when she gets back.

 

 

“It’s true,” Nine Ball protests. “Everyone always tells girls to be ‘nice’. Who’s telling boys to be ‘nice’? Boys can commit murder and everyone just titters and goes ‘boys will be boys’.” 

“I know,” says Debbie, and she does, really. “But if it gets out to Tammy that her kids learned no-no words from us, she’ll put all our heads on pikes once the divorce and trial is settled.” 

Nine Ball shudders. Frankly, so does Debbie.

 

 

Daphne and Rose start dating. The house finds out in the most dramatic way possible, which in hindsight, they really should have expected considering it was Daphne and Rose.

“Are you two insane?” Amita demands, waving the tabloid in Daphne’s face. “You had sex in a limo on your way to a red carpet premiere?” 

“We didn’t,” Rose lies blatantly. 

“It was just necking,” Daphne cuts in, looking murderous. 

“You look like a fucking shark attacked your throat,” says Lou, flipping through another tabloid and holding the pages open to show her. “It’s a wonder your breathing wasn’t impeded.” 

Daphne, the fucking little shit, leans over looking interested and eyes the photographs critically. “Rose is truly an artist.” 

Constance and Nine Ball go off in gales of laughter. Rose smiles proudly, and Amita affixes both of them with a filthy stare. “You’re insane,” she repeats. “If you two even _try_ to repeat this in the house, I swear - “ 

“We’ll keep it to the bedroom,” Rose promises. “But it might get loud, so…” 

“Loud is for amateurs,” says Constance, smirking. “The question is if it’ll get kinky.” 

Debbie rubs her temples, sighing. “Can we please stop talking about this when the kids are two rooms away?” 

 

 

“Daphne and Rose are dating now,” Debbie says over the phone. Tammy’s been stuck a state over after it turns out her husband was caught up in something bigger drug-wise than she imagined and she’s had to stay for the trial and won’t be back for longer than she expected, so the rest of them have been keeping her updated best as they can.

“I can’t say I’m surprised,” Tammy replies. “Rose obviously had a thing for her even during the lead-up to the heist. Did you hear her talk about Daphne’s neck?”

“Don’t even mention Daphne’s neck,” says Debbie, suppressing a shiver. Tammy snorts with laughter - she’s seen the tabloids, too. “How are the kids?”

Debbie bites her lip, suddenly recalling what Caleb and Zoe said on two separate occasions. “They’re good,” she says, then cautiously leads in to the next sentence. “They seem to think Lou and I are married? Or should be.”

“Well, are you not?”

“No!” Debbie yelps. “Why does everyone think that? She’s my best friend, and my partner, and I’ve known her for _years._ It’s not like that.” 

Tammy is silent for a while, then comes back sounding amused. “You are aware that you just described the relationship between half the married couples I know?”

“It’s not like that,” says Debbie, very firmly.

“Sure,” says Tammy, with an extremely disbelieving tone that is frankly offensive. “Other than that, what else has been going on while I’ve been away?”

 

 

For reasons unknown, Daphne is Caleb’s favourite. He sits by her whenever she’s going through scripts and gamely reads lines to her so she can respond better. 

They’re rehearsing a very emotional scene in the living room one afternoon, with Debbie at the dining table listening with half a ear open wondering if the lines Caleb is reading are actually age-appropriate. They finish up a scene - Caleb pretends to stab Daphne very dramatically and Daphne collapses on the ground with equal melodrama - and Daphne gives him a high five. “Good job, Caleb! We’ll make an actor out of you yet.”

As a reward, Daphne gets out the good tub of ice cream from the freezer for them to share. 

“How about some for me?” Debbie tries.

“You have your own ice cream,” Daphne retorts, grinning wide. 

“Lou ate all of it!” 

“That’s your own fault,” she replies cheerfully. “How many scoops would you like, Caleb?” 

They settle down and turn on the TV - Daphne loads up a cartoon and they start watching it. Twenty minutes in, Caleb turns to Daphne, mouth all chocolatey. “Hey, Aunt Daphne, how did you know you wanted to marry Aunt Rose?” 

Debbie’s eyes snap up to both of them. Daphne doesn’t seem fazed, just keeps digging her spoon into her bowl. “Well, we’re not sure about marriage yet, buddy,” she says. “But if you mean _dating,_ then… I really like her. She’s smart and makes me smile and she gets me to think about things in new perspectives. There’s nobody I feel more comfortable with. That’s why I want to date her.” 

Caleb takes this in, looking thoughtful. “You’re both girls, right?”

Debbie sees Daphne stiffen, just a little. “Yeah, and whatever anyone may have told you, there’s nothing wrong with that, okay?”

“I know,” Caleb replies. “Does that mean that if I want to like a boy next time, I can?”

“Sure,” Daphne says, the tension in her shoulders releasing. “You can like whoever you want, as long as both of you are kind and respectful about it. You can like girls and boys and all variations thereupon.” 

Caleb wrinkles his nose and for an awful moment Debbie thinks he’s going to question what that means. “What does _thereupon_ mean? It sounds like a fancy word.” 

“Oh,” Daphne says, frowning, obviously having overestimated herself. “Um, let me double-check.” 

 

 

“I’m going to pick Zoe from karate,” Lou says. “Want to come? You could use the fresh air.”

Debbie frowns, looking up from her laptop. “How can your bike fit three people?”

Lou rolls her eyes. “I’m not taking my bike, idiot. If Tammy came home to find out I took Zoe on the Harley she would put me through a tree shredder.” 

That is fair. Debbie shuts the laptop, getting up. “If I’m riding with you, I pick the music.”

“Okay, Miss-I-Had-All-The-NSYNC-Albums-In-The-Nineties.” 

“Shut up! I swore you to _secrecy,”_ Debbie hisses, thankful that everyone else is out or holed up in their rooms. Lou laughs all the way out to the garage. 

 

 

“We’re here to pick up Zoe Robinson,” Lou says to the girl at the counter, flashing her most dazzling smile, the one she uses when she’s trying to charm people to get her way. The girl smiles back warmly, eyeing Lou with interest. Debbie feels a twinge of annoyance - can they just pick up their girl, get out and get home?

“Miss… Taylor, is it? Zoe’s aunt?” The girl checks, looking at her computer. Lou puts an arm smoothly around Debbie’s waist and Debbie freezes, going still. _“Mrs_ , actually,” she says, voice silky. “This is my wife.” 

Debbie does _not_ miss the sudden flash of disappointment in the girl’s eyes. “Oh, well, yes. You’re both on the list, so you can just head in and get Zoe.” 

“Thank you,” Lou says pleasantly, turning the corner to Zoe’s classroom. She lets go of Debbie and Debbie feels the loss keenly for a second, aching beneath her ribcage. “What the hell was that?” She hisses, trying to shake the feeling off. “Your _wife?!”_

Lou gives her a look. “Tammy got Nine Ball to put all of us on the list under approved aliases, and there could only be so many fake relatives,” she says patiently, like Debbie’s an idiot. “Especially considering Zoe is _obviously_ white and Amita and Constance and Nine Ball quite evidently aren’t. They’re paired up alongside Daphne and Rose too.” 

“Oh,” says Debbie, trying to push away the weird mix of relief and confusion and hurt inside her that really doesn’t make any sense. “Wait, how did Nine Ball get _Daphne_ on the list? She’s Daphne Kluger! _Everyone_ would recognise her if she came to get Zoe.” 

“The last time she came she wore sunglasses and a full-face mask,” says Lou. “She hasn’t come again. It’s way too much effort.” 

“Yikes,” says Debbie, because she can definitely imagine it. 

 

 

The kids get a little crabby one afternoon and nothing seems to appease them, even their favourite treats and activities. Debbie’s beginning to _look_ a little frazzled when Lou steps in. “Guys, what’s wrong? Did something happen?”

“No,” says Zoe, but her arms stay folded. Caleb sinks deeper into the couch. “We miss Mommy.”

“She’s coming back soon,” says Debbie. “Once she’s done with - “

“Everyone’s been saying that _forever!”_ Zoe interrupts, and Debbie notes the burgeoning tears in her eyes with alarm. “She’s been away ages and I want her to tuck me in and read me stories and hug me goodnight.” 

Lou sighs, pulling Zoe into a hug. “I know, sweetheart. I know both of you miss her a lot and it’s not the same without her around and you just want her back here.” She strokes Zoe’s hair and reaches a hand out to Caleb. “But you guys know she’s doing something really important, right? I’m sure she misses both of you very much and wishes she could be here with you, and she will be, once she’s done. I promise.”

They both nod, though it looks a little reluctant. Lou gives them both an encouraging smile. “I’ll go see when she’s free for a Skype call, okay? While we’re waiting, why don’t you two…” She glances around and settles on the stacks of photo albums Tammy lugged over from home. “You two know Aunt Debbie was away for a long time, right? Why don’t you catch her up with some of the stuff she missed?” 

The kids’ eyes light up and Lou’s already moving across the room to get the albums, so Debbie props herself up on the couch and gets both of them comfortably settled on her lap.

 

 

“This is from the day Mommy and Daddy brought Zoe back from the hospital,” Caleb says proudly, pointing at another picture. He’s sprawled on the sofa with his chin on Debbie’s knee poring over the albums, Zoe on Debbie’s other side. “And that’s me looking at her. See, Aunt Debbie? She was so teeny.” 

Debbie nods, gently brushing the photograph with her fingertips. She remembers seeing Zoe just once before Claude screwed her over and she was arrested, pink and tiny and squirming. She remembers seeing Caleb, too - a little older than his sister, but not old enough to remember her before she got carted off to jail. That day, meeting Tammy in her garage, hearing Zoe whine about dinner from the steps - she didn’t show it, but it felt like all five years of missed chances, lost time, just crashed down on her in that second. It was a big contributing factor as to why she wanted, _needed,_ the heist to succeed. To make up for everything she lost. The heist was supposed to represent triumph, victory - winning back her dignity and her _life._ Taking revenge on Claude, taking everything away from him the way he took everything from her. It was supposed to wipe away five lost years and give everything back to her.

It was supposed to _be_ everything.

So why does she sometimes feel like there’s still something missing?

“Aunt Debbie, are you listening?” Zoe’s voice brings her back to the present, and Debbie shakes herself out of her reverie. “Sorry, honey, what were you saying?”

They’ve flipped more pages and are now pointing to a picture of Tammy in a wedding dress, looking resplendent, her piece of shit husband beside her in his tux. “That’s Mommy and Daddy on their wedding day.” 

Debbie’s chest tightens. She remembers that, too. Being there, with Lou, keeping quiet and staying under the radar and making sure they didn’t draw attention to themselves. Being there, _with Lou._

This time Caleb and Zoe are silent, quietly paging through the album and giggling to each other, and nobody’s asking Debbie why she and Lou aren’t married, but the question is whirling in Debbie’s mind anyway, because if there’s _one_ thing she remembers from that night, it’s standing by the drinks table and watching Tammy dance with her ex-husband with Lou by her side, and wondering what it would be like to get on one knee, pull out a ring, propose - 

 _I wasn’t good enough then,_ Debbie thinks. _I wasn’t good enough for her then, and I’m not good enough for her now._ Five years. Five years she left Lou on her own because of her stupid mistake, five years they’ll never, ever get back.

She looks back down at the photographs, at Caleb and Zoe’s precious little smiles, and thinks _I can’t. I can’t ask her for this. I’ve hurt her so much._

_I can’t._

 

 

Tammy calls. “It’s done. Guilty on all charges and the divorce went through. The kids get pretty much all the assets the authorities didn’t seize, which wasn’t much. Apparently half his income was coming in via drugs.” She sighs, a hiss of static over the line. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Good,” says Debbie. “The kids miss you a lot.”

“I miss them too,” says Tammy softly. “Are they still asking about you and Lou, or have you two finally gotten your shit together?”

Debbie exhales, slowly, painfully. “Tammy,” she says, and doesn’t get any further. “Deborah. You love her. I can see it, the girls can see it, even my children can see it. Why can’t you just be honest with yourself? Why can’t you let yourself love her and be happy together?”

“Tammy, I can’t,” she says, and it’s bordering on hysterical now. “Tammy - I hurt her. I fucked up and we lost five years. _Five years._ All because I was upset with her and went to Claude and let myself walk right into a trap. After all that, after all this time, how can I possibly look her in the eye and ask for this too? I don’t deserve her. I don’t deserve to be happy _with her._ I can’t.” 

Tammy’s quiet for a long minute. “Debbie Ocean, you’re an idiot,” she eventually says, but there’s no bite in it. “She loves you. She has loved you for years, even the five you were in jail, and I don’t understand why you can’t see that your warped idea of self-punishment is hurting her more than it hurts yourself.” 

She can’t do this over the phone with her oldest friend, she can’t. Debbie squeezes her eyes shut. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay, Debbie,” says Tammy, gently. “I’ll see you.”

Debbie hangs up, and just stays there for a second. Just clutches tight to the phone and tries to inhale, the breaths shaky, before she heads upstairs to her room. The kids are playing with Lou - something about teaching them blackjack; she can bloody well suffer Tammy’s irritation on her own - and her door is ajar when Debbie walks past. There isn’t much noise - just muted laughter and chattering, but just as she’s about to enter her own room - 

“Aunt Lou,” Debbie hears, and freezes to the spot. “Why aren’t you and Aunt Debbie married?”

Debbie hears Lou’s soft laugh through the door. “Haven’t you and your brother asked this to Aunt Debbie a hundred times?”

“Yes,” says Zoe, sounding petulant. “But she never gives us a _proper_ answer even though it’s _sooo_ obvious that you two are _just_ like Belle and the Beast. Or Anna and Kristoff. Or Mulan and Shang. Or like Aunt Daphne and Aunt Rose! And they’re _all_ married so why aren’t the two of you?”

Debbie can’t breathe, can’t move, a hundred thoughts running through her mind - _Belle and the Beast, really?! Which one of us is the Beast?!,_ and _who the hell are Anna and Kristoff?,_ and _did Daphne and Rose actually get engaged this time?,_ but then Lou breaks the long silence that’s ensued after Zoe’s proclamation with a quiet sigh. “Listen, Zoe,” she says, and it sounds raw, and genuine, and a little lost. “People get married because they both love each other very much, yeah? It has to go both ways, which is why sometimes they get divorced, because someone stops loving the other person. It never really works out if only one person loves the other but the other person doesn’t love them back.” Debbie hears Lou swallow hard. “So we’re not married because I love her, but she doesn’t love me back, not like that. Okay?” 

Debbie feels her entire world stop turning, her heart dropping to her feet, because wait, no, fuck, does Lou think Debbie isn’t completely, deeply, all-consumingly fucking in love with her? Does she actually think Debbie doesn’t - 

Tammy’s words come back in a rush - _she has loved you for years,_ and _your warped idea of self-punishment is hurting her more than it hurts yourself_. Debbie lifts her hand off the doorknob, turning to go open the door, to tell Lou she’s wrong, _she’s wrong,_ Debbie’s loved her back for years and it’s just that she’s always been a stupid reckless coward, and - 

Caleb’s voice drifts through to Debbie’s ears, sounding concerned. “Aunt Lou, don’t cry.”

And with that, all the hesitation Debbie ever felt just leaves her. She pushes the door open, her glance falling on the three of them - Lou on her rug, eyes red and watery; Caleb hugging her; Zoe in her lap. They all look up at Debbie in surprise, and Lou’s eyes flare with panic. “Oh - Debbie - shit - “

“Lou,” Debbie says, and she stops in her tracks. “Lou, you don’t actually think - you think I don’t love you?” She doesn’t give Lou time to respond because the words can’t stop, she knows the kids are watching it all unfold before them with eyes huge and mouths open but she _can’t_ stop. “Because I do. More than anything in this world, more than anyone, I - I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t realise earlier when I should have. I’m sorry it took me screwing up so badly and landing myself in - for me to figure out. I just… I couldn’t look at you and believe I deserved you, after everything. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” She gulps for air, feeling the sting in her eyes. “If you’ll have me I want to marry you. I want you to be my wife.”

For what feels like an eternity, that just hangs in the air, between them. Caleb and Zoe are looking at her like she’s grown three heads and Lou’s jaw is slack, the tears slowly falling. Debbie just looks back, trying to breathe past the weight sitting on her chest. 

After _forever,_ or what seems like it, Lou’s gaze hardens a little, and she sighs, determined. “Caleb, Zoe,” she says softly. “Will you two please go to your room? Brush your teeth and change into your pajamas and I’ll be there to tuck you in later.” 

They dart out of the room like lightning, seeming aware that this is far, far bigger than they are and they should give Debbie and Lou some privacy. When they’ve closed the door behind them, Lou closes her eyes and breathes deeply, still not getting up, and Debbie feels like the weight of the world is on her shoulders, like she’s on the cliff-edge of breaking.

“Debbie,” Lou says, very, very quietly. “Come here.” 

Debbie goes. Kneels on the ground in front of where Lou is seated, lets Lou cup her face with one hand and stroke the line of her bottom lip with the pad of her thumb. Carefully, she leans in, slow, and kisses her, the softest, briefest brush of lips against lips, and it’s _everything._

“I’ve been in love with you pretty much since we met,” Lou confesses, sounding more vulnerable than Debbie’s ever heard her. “I’ve wanted to marry you almost as long.” 

“Then marry me,” says Debbie, devoid of ring or flowers or candles or sentimental proposal speech, but meaning every single word. “Be my wife, Lou Miller.”  

Lou leans back a little so she can look Debbie in the eye and give her a crooked smile, her eyes still wet. “I’m yours.” 

 _Yours,_ Debbie thinks. _Forever, always, yours._

 

 

After, they do go and tuck the kids in. They blink sleepily through the story Lou reads and lay down obediently under the covers when Debbie tells them to.

“Are you two okay now, Aunt Debbie?” Zoe whispers when Debbie goes to her side to turn out her light. “Aunt Lou was crying.”

“I know,” says Debbie. “It’s all okay now, Zoe. We’re alright.” 

Despite her drowsiness, her eyes light up and she smiles. “Are you _finally_ gonna get married?”

And Debbie glances up, looks over, meets Lou’s eyes. From Caleb’s bedside, Lou smiles back, fond and affectionate and so full of love that it makes Debbie reel a little. It’s the expression, the face she wants to wake up next to for the rest of her life. She looks back down at Zoe and kisses her forehead. “Yes, Zoe. We’re going to get married.” Saying it makes something settle so _right_ in Debbie’s heart, like she’s been waiting for, stumbling into, searching for this all her life. And maybe she has. “Sleep tight now, okay? When you wake up tomorrow, your mom will be home.”

Zoe yawns and closes her eyes. “Good night, Aunt Debbie. And Aunt Lou.” Caleb echoes it from his bed, and Debbie and Lou say quiet goodnights. They watch them drift off and wait for their breathing to even out before exiting and closing the door behind them. The night seems brighter, somehow, calmer, more peaceful. 

Like she’s finally home.

Lou turns to Debbie and gives her a quick smile. “Shall we?”

“I have an idea about the ring,” Debbie blurts out. “There’s a really nice diamond I know that Amita would approve of.”

Lou’s eyes sparkle, brighter than any jewel Debbie could ever care to name or own. “Is that so?” She grins. “Another heist?” 

“With you by my side,” says Debbie. “Every step of the way.”

“For better or for worse,” says Lou, and leans in to kiss her. 

**Author's Note:**

> later, after everything:
> 
> debbie: lou, who are anna & kristoff?  
> lou: what?  
> debbie: zoe said you & i were like belle & the beast, anna & kristoff, shang & mulan. who are anna & kristoff? are they characters from a disney film that came out when i was in the clink?  
> constance: oh my god. debbie, you haven't watched frozen?  
> debbie: what the fuck is frozen?  
> nine ball: oh, this is gonna be good.


End file.
